


All You Gotta Do (Is Say Yes)

by Daiako (Achrya)



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anakin Skywalker Is A Mess, BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, Negotiations, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Work, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 09:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24847852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Daiako
Summary: Anakin, newly recovered from the injury that ended his military career and single for the first time in a long time, decides to look into Sith Hells, a 'service' that provides everything from platonic company to phone sex to professional Doms and Dommes, and everything in between and beyond.The man Anakin meets, known as the negotiator, is not what he imagines in a Dom, the setting is far from the dark whip and chain laden dungeon he pictured, and yet...
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 17
Kudos: 181





	All You Gotta Do (Is Say Yes)

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to go in 'Waste This Time' but I wanted to put it by itself in case I ever felt the urge to add to it. Which I might. I don't like to box myself in. Fuck boxes.

The Negotiator opened the door with a warm smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes and formed deep dimples at his cheeks. Anakin hesitated, blinking rapidly at the man stepping back to allow him into the brightly lit space. He hadn’t seen any pictures when deciding on who he wanted to do this with, picking his top 3 based off resumes and reviews, as if he was picking a restaurant and not a partner in potentially kinky sex acts. 

He’d eventually chosen Duchess, Queen, and Negotiator, who all had similar credentials. Older than him by various amounts, ranging from five years to nearly twenty, fairly open with what they were into, with a lot of positive feedback from partners. Negotiator had a doctorate in psychology and a license in sexual psychotherapy, which had almost been enough to put Anakin off completely. It seemed like a bit much, or like he was dooming himself to more lecturing than anything else. He’d been imagining a professor type, older than the late thirties the man’s profile promised, glasses and tweed, too boring for the itch he was trying to get scratched. It was only the feedback, declaring him firm, thorough, intuitive, and most of all ‘wonderful with beginners’ that had stayed his hand. 

He wasn’t sure what to make of the man. A little shorter than he was, auburn hair touched with random bits of silver falling in thick waves over his forehead, thoughtful gray-blue eyes behind silver framed glasses, and well groomed beard. He was dressed nicely but not at all how Anakin had imagined, in very well fitting tan slacks, polished black shoes, a white button down shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and a tan vest. He was wearing a tie, for fucks sake, navy blue and probably more expensive than Anakin’s second hand, frayed jeans, threadbare t-shirt, and weatherbeaten boots. He looked...nice. Like a guy he’d bump into getting coffee who would apologize even though it was completely Anakin’s fault. 

He did not look like a guy who was part of a super exclusive registry a person could pick any number of companions from. He sure as hell didn’t look like one of the highest rated Doms in said registry, at least not to Anakin. 

“Come inside, please, bag and shoes by the door. Would you like tea?” The man said, his accented voice smooth and every bit as warm as his smile. Anakin coughed, realizing he was staring, muttered “yes, please”, and ducked his head before stepping into the man’s...surprisingly comfortable looking sitting room. The lights were bright and the room open, with one wall being completely made of floor to ceiling windows and a sliding door that looked to lead out to a wide balcony. The room was full of nice, mostly comfortable looking furniture in the form of a long couch with an overly long attached chaise, a strange S shaped chair, and a padded bench all in the same soft gray leather, a low table with delicate looking wavy bars holding up the solid glass tabletop, surrounded by plush looking pillows in various shapes and color. There was a gray rug between the couch and table, thick and soft looking, and what looked like a folded over, extra thick yoga mat with a pair of round pillows resting on top, all in the same matte black. What Anakin assumed was an entertainment center, tall and made of dark wood, sat opposite the couch, drawers marked with hanging metal rings and two doors at the top, closed to hide away a TV, most likely. 

By the windows was an office space with a computer desk, chairs, and filing cabinets, and a small kitchenette, where the Negotiator was pouring water from an electric kettle into two mugs. There was only one door in the place, next to the entertainment system and shut tight. All in all it was very normal and comfortable and not like the filthy videos he’d been watching online to try and get himself more psyched up for this. 

He sat on the couch, finding that it was every bit as comfortable as it looked, and sank his toes into the plush carpet. Padme had warned him to let go of his expectations when she’d agreed to give him a recommendation to Sith Hells, after he’d pestered her relentlessly about the beautiful business card that had fallen out of her purse when they’d met up for coffee three weeks ago. He wouldn’t have thought anything of it, weird name aside, except she’d looked startled then flushed so prettily when she snatched it out of his hands and tucked it away. Refusing to tell him what it was about had only made him want to know more. 

The truth had thrown him, especially when she’d guided him to a website to look at and a bunch of stuff he’d never given much thought to had dropped into his lap, each click leading to something more surprising (and intriguing) than the last. He wasn’t sure what blew his mind more, that Padme was apparently into what Sith Hells offered (though, as she’d pointed out with an affronted look, it was everything from sex hotlines to platonic compaionship to more intense options, so how was he to know what she was involved in?) or that he’d been so taken in he’d looked up from his computer after what felt like just scratching the surface and realized he’d spent the whole night on the tasteful, simple website. 

And after he’d paid his money and cleared his tests and been told Negitator wanted to have a meeting with him he’d all but run home and gone right to the Negotiator’s page. He’d clicked the first video and treated himself to fifteen minutes of long legs clad in breezy black linen and the bottom half of a torso covered in a light dusting of red hair stand above a naked woman. She’d sucked and licked at leather glove covered fingers, masked face becoming a messy of drool and tears as she took them so deep she choked, and humped his boot all to a background of a soft, pleased murmur of “More, sweetheart”, “Slow down darling, slow down” “Aren’t you a pretty little slut, so desperate to hump my foot like a dog” and “Very good, you’ve done so good. Now clean up your mess” before finally going black as the woman, still shuddering from her orgasm, leaned down, tongue out, to lick at the man’s boot. 

Anakin hadn’t gotten off as hard as he had watching that in...a long time. Maybe ever. He’d laid in the afterglow, spunk drying on his stomach and chest, and been sure he’d made a good choice. But now it was hard to reconcile this man who looked like he could be someone’s history teacher with the silken voice and the sweetly filthy words it had spoken. 

“Here you are.” Negotiator said, offering him a steaming mug of tea. Anakin brought it to his mouth and blew gently, trying to look as if he wasn’t watching the other man settle down next to him intently. “Did you want to be called by your name?” 

Anakin lifted an eyebrow. “What else would you call me?” 

Negotiator shrugged genially. “Some prefer a nickname, to distance themselves from their daily lives, or a term of endearment, or to be called nothing at all. But if that’s not a concern I’ll just call you Anakin, and you’ll call me Obi-Wan. For now.” 

There was an undercurrent of teasing to the man’s voice and it showed in the quirk of his lips around the rim of his cup when he took a sip. Anakin shifted, anxiousness bubbling in his stomach, and looked away again. Not what he’d expected, no, ridiculously handsome, yes, and radiating an air of ease and control Anakin couldn’t help but envy just a little. 

“I’ve got your file here,” The man leaned forward to scoop a tablet from the table. “But I hope you won’t mind me asking a few questions. I like to know a person before I decide to take them on, especially when it comes to beginners, to be sure we’re really on the same page.” 

Anakin nodded. “That’s, uh, fine. I guess.” 

So maybe he’d spent the night before imagining himself laid out and whipped until he was bruised and sobbing, then fucked brutally, like his favorite porns all seemed to center on. (In hindsight he should have realized long before now that there was something to that preference, large men bent over and broken down by petite women or older men, choked on cocks, both flesh and silicone, then fucked while told how lucky they were to be getting it, how good they were, how beautiful and strong and perfect.) but a little talking before they got down to whatever it was they were going to do was okay. Sure the checklist he’d filled out while having his blood drawn and detailing his sexual history in painful detail was worth something but face to face interaction was best.

Probably. 

“How did you find out about Sith Hells?” Obi-Wan paused before he said the name, a touch of wry humor to his tone. Not a fan of the name, clearly. 

“A friend. Well, ex-girlfriend? But we’re still friends.” Best friends, in fact. “She had a card and when I asked she told me some things, and showed me the website and...uh. Yeah.”

“Were you interested in BDSM before now?” 

“I think so?” Anakin wasn’t squirming, because he didn’t squirm, but he did suddenly find the inside of his mug absolutely fascinating. The tea had a fruity scent and taste, with a touch of lemon, and each sip sent warmth spreading through his body. He didn’t usually care for tea at all but this was nice. “I mean...I’ve never thought about it as a...as something I would do, myself, before.” 

But now it seemed to be all he thought about. 

“You’ve never had a professional dom before, but you’ve expressed an interest in more extreme things like knife and breathplay. Have you ever done those things?” Obi-Wan asked, tone mild. He might as well have been asking Anakin the time, and not about his theorized kinks. 

Anakin’s face warmed. “Ah. No. I’ve just...seen videos of some things, and anything else I just said yes to? If it turns out I don’t like it then I can always just not do it again, right?” 

Obi-Wan hummed noncommittally and papers rustled. “In the future I would suggest using the ‘unsure’ option when you are, in fact, unsure if you would enjoy something. You’ll find most of the dominants working for Sith Hells have little tolerance for guesswork or going into a situation expecting one thing only to find their partner has misled them.” 

“Are you fucking scolding me?” Anakin asked, brows furrowing. He felt like he was being scolded, memories of being talked down to during his stint in the military coming back in full force. He’d never responded well to that kind of thing, not from his mother’s asshole first husband, not from teachers trying to shout and punish the ‘wildness’ out of him, not from the parade of cops who’d picked him up as a teenager, and not from his commanding officers in the military. Those people were always trying to make him feel small and stupid, as if they were so far above the rowdy fatherless kid from the Tattoine trailer park and had a right to control him just because they could, and nothing pissed him off as much as that. 

Which, he knew, was at odds with what he was doing here. 

Less than ten minutes in and already he was doubting his decision to pursue this sudden, but impossible to shake, interest. 

“I’m giving you advice that I believe will help you in the future. Being clear about your wants, interests, and experience can only be to your benefit.” Obi-Wan tilted his head to the side. “Did you want to be scolded? 

Anakin opened his mouth then shut it, unsure of how to respond. The anger he’d felt sparking went cold, fanned out by the older man’s smooth voice and seemingly genuine words, and left him blushing hotly for reasons he couldn’t put a name to. He took another drink from his tea, muttering a snappy “No” when Obi-Wan stayed silent. 

“I’ll ask you to watch your language, unless I’ve given permission otherwise.” The older man said, attention falling back to the papers in his hand. “You've had one relationship prior, with a woman. You indicated it was fairly vanilla.”

There had been a one-time thing, with some silk scarves and a blindfold, but he’d felt weird about being with Padme that way, even though he hadn’t minded looking at her bound to his bed and squirming under his fingertips. They hadn’t repeated it, though now he wondered if she’d been more interested than she’d let on, and in the grand scheme of things it had been pretty ‘vanilla’ really. 

“Yeah.”

“And you have no issue being with a dominant man? I have found,” Obi-Wan said, holding up a hand to stall Anakin’s response. “That there are a number of men who think find their way to me because they’re bored of their sex lives. They think they must choose a male partner because they come here expecting to be bossed around and maybe spanked a little and are unable to imagine a woman treating them in such a manner, which is a shortsightedness I don’t find attractive, personally. Often they find themselves unable to go through it or, worse, force themselves to endure a scene with me because they don’t understand they can stop at any time, or would rather do something they don’t want than let their ‘ego’ be bruised. I have no time for people with that kind of mentality. Experimentation is lovely, and I don’t mind a novice or someone exploring aspects of their sexuality, but I cannot tolerate anything less than enthusiastic and informed consent from my clients.” 

He stopped, fixing a meaningful look on Anakin. Who nodded slowly. “That sounds...no. I mean yeah this is what I want. I think...I don’t know that I’ll like any of this, really, but I think I will. I mean...you don’t really know until you try, right? And you’re...attractive.”

Understatement but Anakin was about to tell a guy he’d just met that he thought he was super fucking hot and that he’d jerked off to the sound of his voice and the sight of half of his body no less than a dozen times over the past few days. That was just not the kind of thing you told someone you’d just met. Or anyone, really. Anakin liked to think he wasn’t big on shame, but if there was ever a time for a healthy sense of self awareness it was now. 

Obi-Wan looked unimpressed with him; it wasn’t an expression he was unused to having aimed in his direction but something about it made Anakin’s stomach swim with heat. Or maybe it was just that Obi-Wan seemed different from his mild-mannered first impression, more commanding than Anakin would have thought he would be. His eyes were sharp and thoughtful, and the smooth voice a little harder, more forceful, than the first greeting had indicated. He sounded more like the man from the video and, even as he felt more than a little annoyed a shiver raced up his spine. 

No one had any right to look so good while frowning at Anakin like he was a naughty child. It was confusing. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said his name carefully, kindly, but with a rigidness that brokered no argument. “Tell me why you’re here. Why try this, like this, now, when it’s not something you’ve ever given anything thought before?”

It seemed like an easy question at first: he had been aware of certain things, and lifestyles, before but he’d never really thought about it in the context of his own life. He liked to watch it play out with others, but when he’d been in the military he’d been focused on that, and on Padme, and content with what he had. He’d always felt weird about his interests before, but chalked it up to gross porn habits that surely everyone had and didn’t have to mean anything about himself really. Bringing it into his actual life, involving Padme who had always seemed so perfect and pure (until she’d told him that he needed to see her for who she was, not who he needed her to be, and broke his heart a little), would have been wrong. 

But now he was out, and single, and was allowed to try new things without feeling like he was stepping over a line or dirtying something that wasn’t meant to be dirtied. 

But he couldn’t say that. 

“It seems like it’d be fun to try out?” 

Wrong answer. If he’d thought Obi-Wan looked displeased with him before the pinched brows and thin lipped expression he was wearing now was a whole different level. Anakin swallowed hard but refused to shrink away from it, staring the man down and willing him to say something, anything, and to wipe that frosty expression from his face. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Anakin burst out when the silence became too much. Quiet was another thing he’d never done great with. “I said I was interested in whatever, and that I’m interested in doing it with you. What else do you need from me?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, frowning hard. “This isn’t a right or wrong answer conversation Anakin, and I most certainly don’t want you agreeing to ‘whatever’ at any time. Thank you for coming to meet me, but I don’t think-”

That sounded like a rejection and that was fine. He didn’t even know this guy, didn’t have to prove anything to him, and if he wasn’t interested in taking Anakin as a client then it wasn’t a big deal, that registry had been full of people. Enough to fill this plain gray office building, apparently, so surely Anakin could find someone who didn’t ask uncomfortable open ended questions and then frown at him when he didn’t say the right thing, because he didn’t know what the right thing to say was. 

Except he hated backing down from a challenge and this felt like a challenge. 

“Look, it turns me on.” Obi-Wan, starting to rise to his feet, hesitated, eyes flicking back to Anakin’s face. Anakin glared, arms crossing over his chest. “I watched some of your videos and I liked the thought of doing those things. ...having them done to me, and I guess I’ve always liked the idea of someone, you know, taking control of me but not because they think they deserve it or because I don’t have a choice.” 

“Because you gave it to them.” Obi-Wan said and yeah, that was it exactly. There had been plenty of people in a position to order him around and make him do things, but never anyone Anakin thought deserved it or who he wanted to have it. It was always something that had chafed, that he’d fought against, until he had few people to answer to. 

Watching other people submit was arousing and confusing and he didn’t exactly understand it fully, but part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted to be able to do that, to just give in to someone else and let them guide him. 

Obi-wan settled back onto the couch, mug finding its way back into his hands. “Okay.” 

Anakin squinted. “Okay?” 

“Yes. ‘It seems fun’ is valid, but it’s not something that appeals to me. That you’ve seen my clips and they arouse you does appeal to me.” Obi-Wan shrugged. “I would like to accept you as a client, if you’re still interested.” 

Anakin felt like he’d lost the plot somewhere (wasn’t he the one paying here? Shouldn’t Obi-Wan be proving himself to him, not the other way around? And should he be worried that basically saying ‘this gets my dick hard’ was the magic answer?) but he let the satisfaction of Obi-Wan’s apparent approval win out. He’d won, somehow, and he did like winning. 

And Obi-Wan was hot. He couldn’t undersell that. 

“Yeah, I’m still interested.” 

“Good.” The older man leaned back, smiling again, and brought one leg up so the ankle was resting on the thigh of the other. “We can begin, if you’re comfortable moving forward today, or we can set another appointment.”

Anakin’s mouth was suddenly dry as hell and his tongue didn’t want to form words like it should, making his “Now! Now is good.” Come out a little frantic and slurred. But could he really be blamed for being excited they were getting somewhere, finally? 

“I want to be clear about what’s going to happen. I won’t be touching you today, and we will be discussing rules, boundaries, and expectations. I want your complete honesty.” Obi-Wan paused, looking at Anakin in question, then continued on when Anakin nodded his understanding. “Do not feel that you must agree to anything you aren’t comfortable with or can’t make your own limits known. Now. Stand and strip.” 

“...What?” 

Obi-Wan’s lids drooped and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Anakin’s stomach clenched and his dick, fickle and overly excited as it often was, twitched in his jeans. “Stand and strip. Unless limit is an issue for you.” 

It wasn’t, Anakin had been naked in front of just about everyone he knew when he was in the military, and hadn’t had any problems with it when it came to locker rooms and shit like that. He was just surprised. Hadn’t Obi-Wan just said he wouldn’t be touching him? He was pretty sure he’d heard that, less than thirty seconds ago. 

“I don’t like to repeat myself Anakin.” Anakin jumped up and, with a fortifying breath, started to pull his clothes off. His shirt came first and, when he looked around for a place to set it (on the floor seemed rude) Obi-Wan patted the couch cushion next to him. “Here is fine. Fold your clothing first, if you will.” 

He did as told, though he wasn’t sure what the point was when he’d just be putting his things back on sooner rather than later, what with touching being off the table. Shirt, then he shimmied out of his pants, hopping around awkwardly to pull them off and wishing he’d thought to make it look good once it was already done. He stopped at his underwear, casting another look at Obi-Wan to ensure he was supposed to keep going. The older man stared back, blank faced, over the rim of his mug of tea. 

The strangest feeling, equal parts anticipation and dread, washed over Anakin in the moment before he pushed his boxers down. Obi-Wan’s eyes followed the motion, unabashedly lingering at Anakin’s cock before humming what was hopefully some wordless appreciation and not disappointment. Not that Anakin had anything to be disappointed over. At least he didn’t think he did. Padme had never complained. 

Admittedly he was only at half mast but-

“Socks too.” 

His boxers and socks, folded together because never let it be said he didn’t anything half way, joined the pile. And then there he was, naked in front of a man he’d met less than thirty minutes ago, arousal and uncertainty warring in his belly, cock coming to life even though he was more embarrassed than anything else. Standing in front of Obi-Wan, still so impeccably dressed, while stripped down was, as it turned out, very different than being in the communal showers or screwing around in the school locker room. It was already fraying his nerves, being observed so intently, nothing but silence between them. 

Not even sex with Padme had ever felt quite this unnerving and...well, mortifying. Did Obi-Wan like what he was seeing? Did he think all of Anakin’s scars were ugly? Was he disgusted by the visible knot of tissue above his prosthetic arm? Should he have mentioned it before taking off his shirt? He’d made note of it when he’d done all the testing and awkward question answering but maybe Obi-Wan had missed that, or maybe the realistic look (it was top of the line, ordered for him by Senator Palpatine, who had taken Anakin under his wing after his injury, for no reason other than being impressed by his record and wanting to make sure he landed on his feet well) hadn’t prepared him for how bad it looked when you could see it all. 

He shifted, hand coming over to rest over (to hide) where flesh met cybernetics.

“Hands at your side.” Obi-Wan said, sharp and loud after the moment of quiet. “I want to see all of you. Stand just like that.” 

The older man stood and, without so much as a twitch of his expression, began to slowly circle Anakin’s body. Anakin started to turn to track him but a hard look reminded him that he was to be standing still. Easier said than done, his heart started beating faster when Obi-Wan moved out of his line of sight and his hand was already damp with sweat. His cock, seemingly missing the window about how uncomfortable this was, continued to slowly make it’s interest known. 

Obi-Wan’s voice was husky and whiskey smooth when it came from behind him, so close to his ear he could feel the man’s breath. With the heat of his words came awareness of his proximity, the warmth of his body mere inches from Anakin’s, of his presence close enough to touch and yet not. 

“When we are speaking normally, or are outside of my work space and not in an agreed upon scene location, you’ll call me Obi-Wan. When we are in a scene you’ll address me differently, to ensure you don’t forget that in this I am control, and you are beneath me. I’ve answered to Sir, Master, Mister, Daddy-” Anakin wrinkled his nose; that was going to be a hard no from him. “You can pick what you think you’ll be able to keep up with best. What you choose doesn’t matter to me, but I expect you to address me as such when you speak to me. You’ll speak when spoken to, unless permission is given otherwise. If you have a question, you first ask for permission to speak. The only exception is when you need to stop or slow down. Understand.” 

“Yes.” Anakin said then, eyes darting around “...sir?” 

“I won’t hold you to it today.” There was laughter in Obi-Wan’s voice. “It would be unfair to demand something from you when you aren’t even sure that that something should be yet. You know what a safeword is, I assume? Explain it to me, as you understand it.” 

He felt Obi-Wan moving away from him, heard the soft pad of his footsteps; it was almost physically painful to not turn to see what was happening. He curled his toes down into the thick shag of the rug and bit the inside of his cheek. Safe words? What did he know about them? As much as anyone knew, probably. 

“It’s a word you use when you want to stop, because ‘No’ and ‘Stop’ aren’t good to use.” 

Obi-Wan cucked his tongue; it sounded far away. “I think taking no and stop off the table is a dangerous practice. In a truly tense or distressed moment it’s human nature to revert to them, so I’ll check in for both, and use my best judgement. A safe word is more direct, a safety net if you’d like, that will call for a more immediate halt or pause as a scene, for any reason at all. Nothing is too small or silly or stupid, and stopping is not a sign of weakness or anything of that matter. I am trusting you to listen to your needs and to protect yourself above all else. You’ll have a word to stop and a word to slow down or pause, and so will I. For now Stop or No will do fine, I don’t expect you to come up with something off the top of your head. Any questions?”

“No. ...wait.” Anakin was trying to track the sound of Obi-Wan’s voice but it was moving, or at least he thought it was. Knowing he was being watched, but unable to watch back, was a new kind of discomfort; he imagined he could feel the man’s gaze like an itch between his shoulders. “You have safe words?”

“I do. Just as you can be uncomfortable or overwhelmed, so can I, and it’s important that I make you aware of the situation if that happens.” 

“Oh. Okay.” He tried to picture the man from those videos, with all the confidence and sweet cruelty, being ‘uncomfortable’ and couldn’t. But maybe it was better to have and never use then to not have and need, or something like that. 

“I have fairly simple rules to start with, that will grow and change to suit our needs. I will punish when rules are broken, but I will never punish you for a rule you aren’t aware of. Unless that’s what you’re after, which is a separate matter that I’m certain we’ll have to come back to.” He was laughing again, at what Anakin wasn’t sure. “Address me properly. Be honest. Don’t engage in anything you aren’t comfortable with, or try to endure anything I may do to you. If you need something, ask. If you are uncertain, ask. If I’m not giving you what you need, make it known. Respectfully of course. Obey my commands. I strive to be as clear as possible, at all times but I’m human, so if I fail I trust you to make it known. I will give you a list of my soft and hard limits when you leave, and I’ll ask you to reconsider the list of yours, but generally I’m not a fan of anything that draws blood, of sharing with others during scenes, or of deprivation and bondage to the degree of my submissive being able to communicate in some way. I expect a list of legitimate boundaries, separated into hard, soft, and unknown.” 

Obi-Wan moved back into his line of vision with that, armed with a folder stuffed full of papers. “Sex. You’ve indicated that you’re comfortable with oral and anal sex, both giving and recieving, with or without condoms. I mostly top, but I do switch on occasion, when the mood strikes and I have a partner willing to attend to the need. Sex is an expected end point of scenes to some, but I also appreciate non-sexual sessions, and don’t want you to assume I’ll always expect a sex act. Romance, of course, is off the table. If you should find the lines blurring you will communicate that immediately so we can handle the matter or, if needed, end our arrangement.” 

He sat down and, with one almost bored glance in Anakin’s direction, picked up the papers he’d abandoned and opened the folder. “You’re hard.”

Anakin looked down and groaned in horror. He was hard. Very hard, full on standing up and flushed deep red at the tip. Even though he hadn’t been touched at all, and couldn’t even blame it on having seen something sexy. He was just standing here, like an idiot, while someone looked him over like some kind of doll or prized animal, breathing harder than if he’d just gone for a run, precum oozing from the tip of his cock. 

What the fuck was that even? 

“Would you like to take care of that?” Obi-Wan asked, placing papers into the folder as if it was the most important thing in the world. “If not I’ll end our meeting for today, and permit you to leave.” 

Anakin bit his lip, flushing hot all the way to the tips of his ears. Did he want to take care of it? Did he want to jerk off in front of a mostly stranger, was what he was really asking, and fine, they were going to be getting up close and personal eventually but that was different from getting himself off while Obi-Wan watched. Or, if the way he was sorting those papers was anything to go by, didn’t watch and okay, why did that make his pulse race? 

It would be uncomfortable to tuck himself away and head home like this. 

“Ahh...yes.” 

“Ask to touch yourself Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, timber of his voice low and rumbling. “And perhaps I’ll say yes.” 

Seriously? How did he go from asking if he wanted to, to making him ask? And it was his dick, he didn’t have to ask to touch it! How could someone grant him permission to do what he wanted with his own body? 

Though, he could admit to himself and only himself, that a jolt of heat went straight to his cock at Obi-Wan’s words, and his stomach churned. 

Well. Whatever, fine, fine. “Can I touch myself. ...Master?” 

Obi-Wan snorted. He looked up, eyes gone dark and a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Yes, you can touch yourself. Don’t hold back, come as soon you’d like.” 

Anakin hadn’t known not coming when he needed to was an option but good to know, he guessed. He wrapped a hand around his shaft, groaning softly, and squeezed. He had literally done this the night before, to the sound of the Negotiator commanding a man bigger than Anakin to ride a dildo until he came all over himself and the floor, and then past that until he was whimpering and tearing up, and yet it was different. He didn’t know why, wouldn’t have been able to put it into words, but something about being under Obi-Wan’s gaze, disinterested as it was, and knowing he’d been granted *permission* made his blood boil. He stroked, hard and fast, unbothered by the friction like he would normally be, and knew it was going to be over entirely too fast. His balls were tight, his cock was rock hard and hot in his hand, and his belly was hot and tight with tension. He was going to embarrass himself by coming in less than five minutes, less than three, but there was no helping it, no holding back the wave beating against him or the swirling shame-arousal that flared up like a wildfire when Obi-Wan looked away, focus back on his papers. 

He came with a cut off shout, wondering if he wasn’t worth watching, back of his neck blazing hot. 

“There are paper towels in the kitchen. Clean up any mess, and then you can dress and take this folder with you. ...consider it homework. I’ll have the registry receptionist contact you with our next session date.” Obi-Wan dropped the folder onto the table in favor of picking up a tablet sitting there. Then, almost offhandedly. “You’ve done very well today Anakin, and looked lovely when you came. I hope to see you again soon.”

His smile was soft and brighter than the son and if Anakin had burst into flames before it he would have gone out feeling happy and drained. 

He left Obi-Wan’s ‘work space’ smiling and feeling like he was floating on air. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Say Yes, by Floetry, which is one of my favorite sexy songs and never fails to get me in the writing mood. 
> 
> I just wanted some ObiKin with communication and transparency. So like. The exact opposite of canon.


End file.
